


The Jumper

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: flash fic challenge.





	The Jumper

Prompt:

 

* * *

 

Jack slapped on some aftershave and walked from the bath.

“It’ll be just another mo!” he called, “I’m sorry I was so late getting back!”

“You’ve already apologized, Jack and I’m in no hurry. We’ve got all night,” came the answer from his front room.

All night.

Despite the fact that it’d been several months now, the idea still lit a fire in him. Part of him hoped there’d come a day when it was so ordinary that it went without saying. That they’d be residing in the same space and all of their nights would be spent together. Even then he didn’t think it would ever lose its thrill.

But today it was still an especially heady feeling to realize she was here, in his home with him and, as she’d said, in no hurry to be anywhere else.

He threw on his most comfortable pair of moleskin trousers and a day shirt, leaving the collar unbuttoned. He didn’t bother with shoes.

She’d seemed to find the casual manner of his home dress particularly appealing for some reason. He didn’t know if she’d previously thought he sat around in a three piece suit at all times, but her enthusiastic response had been amusing.

Until she’d got to work removing his clothes. After that, ‘amusing’ was not the right word to describe his feelings.

He hurried into the front room expecting to find her curled on the loveseat with a book. She often selected one from his shelf when work, or some other chore, pulled him away.

As expected, she was where he’d thought she’d be, but instead of a book in hand, she was bent forward, her face one of utter concentration, staring down at something in her lap.

“Is that my jumper?” He asked.

“I noticed there was a hole in it last time I was here.”

He could see now that she had a needle in one hand, threaded with a bit of yarn similar in color to the jumper, and was doggedly attempting a repair.

“I know. I caught it on a nail in the shed. I was going to see if I could patch it but I hadn’t gotten ‘round to it yet.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

She glanced up briefly to give him a scolding look before bending to her task again, thankfully quickly enough to miss the small quirk of his mouth he couldn’t stop.

“It never occurred to me. Besides, I didn’t even know you knew how,” he said, truthfully.

“I’ve watched Dot do it a hundred times. How hard can it be?”

“Well, thank you, but really, Phryne, it’s not necessary. It’s just an old jumper.”

“It’s my favorite,” she said quietly.

His heart stuttered. It was his favorite too. It hadn’t always been. It was just something he threw on to work in the garden when the weather turned, but that first night she’d stayed it had become something special.

They’d left the warmth of his bed to get a spot of tea and some cake, and rather than get dressed she’d grabbed the jumper off the valet.

It fell to just below her hips leaving the entire length of her shapely legs exposed. She’d had to push up the sleeves because they were a bit too long. Her hair was tousled and her face clean of any makeup. She’d never looked more beautiful.

Well, that was a lie, she was always beautiful, but one look at her, wearing his clothing, had been almost enough to make him forget the growling of his stomach.

He’d found himself reaching for it often after that night and making a point to leave it out on the nights she stayed.

Once, they’d gone away to a friend’s fishing cabin for the weekend. She’d worn it almost exclusively, indoors and out, and he hadn’t washed it for days after. Not until her scent had faded away.

He sat down beside her now to watch her handiwork. Her stitching was sloppy and the patch she was making would always be evident. He decided he preferred it to an expert job.

There might come a day when she was no longer so content to be with him. To share the rather dull and ordinary existence he lived. But then, his life was far less ordinary these days and he was more than willing to change it up even further. To follow her on any adventure that caught her whim.

He’d follow her anywhere—if she’d have him.

But, if the day came when she felt the need to move on without him, he’d let her go. Without animus (but not without pain) but he’d never let go of the jumper. He might never wear it again, in order to prevent any further damage, but he’d always keep it. Just the way it was now, with her not so perfect job of a patch.

If he was lucky she’d have worn it last and while her scent wouldn’t linger too long, the memory of her in it, and this current moment of domesticity, would live in his heart forever.

She finished her task and held it up to scrutiny.

“It’s not very good, is it?” She said, scrunching up her nose.

She didn’t sound too terribly disappointed but then she wasn’t one to believe she was expert at everything or get upset at the odd failure.

“Maybe I should take it to Dot,” she said.

“No.” He took it from her hands and set it aside. “It’s perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a flashfic. I wasn't planning to participate today but one of the images from this heat inspired me. A big thanks to the organizers.  
> And thanks to Ollyjay for the instructions on how to add an image here on AO3!


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